Incognito
by vanhunks
Summary: JC Post Endgame. Redemption can be something intense. Janeway goes missing and prefers not to be found.


**INCOGNITO**

**_vanhunks_**

**_Codes: J/C_**

**_Rating: All ages_**

**_Disclaimer: Paramount owns Janeway, Voyager and Chakotay._**

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story comprises nine short chapters which I have uploaded as one single document._**

**_

* * *

_**

**_INCOGNITO_**

"Admiral Janeway cannot be traced," said Admiral Paris to Captain Chakotay. Paris looked glum, his sometimes affable features haggard. "To the shame of the Federation," he continued quietly, "we have exhausted all possibilities, searched every vessel bound for the Gamma, Beta and Delta Quadrants, all off-world destinations. No trace of DNA, no records. It is as if she never existed."

Chakotay gained the distinct impression that Paris was hiding something, though the expression of solemnity wasn't faked.

"She doesn't wish to be found. Is that it?"

"She's not dead, if that's what you mean, Captain."

"No records, no trace of DNA. She might as well be dead."

"That would be a most unfortunate occurrence, for someone like Kathryn Janeway to be dead before her time, and, a thought I wouldn't expect Captain Chakotay to entertain."

"So she's playing hide and seek…" Chakotay responded, absently rubbing his chin with thumb and forefinger.

"After what she's been through, that's a terrible way of putting it. If it means anything – "

"It means _everything_ to me that she is alive, that she…is…somewhere alive…"

"We never gave her anything to remain in the public eye, have we…Captain?" Admiral Paris said, his voice sound bitter this time. "Did Starfleet or you, Captain, give her any reason to believe that it would be worth staying?"

"We?"

"Yes, _we_!" it burst unflatteringly from Admiral Paris. "If it means so much to you to find her, why have you lost her in the first place? And Starfleet…all the debriefings, making her believe her work meant nothing… Losing Voyager…" A pause followed, then, "There was little I could do…" Another heavy pause. "I can tell you, Captain, that a man can lose faith and not wish to live if he has…nothing to live for…"

For a moment Chakotay dropped his guard. Owen Paris hit hard at what he admitted was the truth. He did lose Kathryn. The moment he negated everything they ever meant to one another - their great, grand friendship, their command spirit on Voyager, their lives, loves, everything…by parading a tall, cool, aloof blonde Borg woman in front of Kathryn…

"It was the lowest of low blows, Captain," Owen Paris said, as if he read Chakotay's thoughts.

"W-What…?"

"You know very well. There's a ring on your finger, Captain. What woman with a sound moral standing like Kathryn Janeway would remain in your orbit knowing you have nothing to offer her anymore? Do you see Kathryn as a home-wrecker and husband stealer?"

"You don't know a thing, Admiral. Kathryn gave up all rights – "

Paris leaned over his desk, stared long and hard at Chakotay, his piercing blue eyes flinty as he tried to curb his anger.

"Chakotay, I almost lost a son because I thought I had given up all rights and never read the signs, as you people say. I am married to the most wonderful person on Earth, yet I almost lost dear sweet Elizabeth because I never read the signs, as you people call them. I am, as you might say, privileged to have her in my life and my heart, but I tell you this: I was a great fool for letting small things stand in the way of happiness. How do you want to resolve this? Have your cake and eat it at the same time? With a ring on your hand? Someone else's ring? What do you want with Kathryn? Hurt her more than she is already damned to hell's damnation? I want her back here, Captain Chakotay, so that I can prostrate myself before her and apologise to her for Starfleet's mistakes…I love her like she was my own daughter, the young cadet whose eyes never lost their lustre, or whose heart never lost the thirst for knowledge. I love her because she embodied everything that Starfleet – yes, Starfleet! holds dear about exploration: man's ceaseless thirst for the unknown, man's unblemished curiosity. She was me when I was a cadet…"

Paris breathed in deeply, like one hyperventilating.

"Why do _you_ want her back?" Admiral Paris asked at length

Chakotay blanched at the admiral's frankness. The words were out before he even had time to consider them.

"Because…because…I love her… Yes…I love her…"

And when Chakotay had uttered the words, a huge boulder seemed to lift from him. He expelled a great sigh as he finally openly admitted his accountability in Kathryn's disappearance. And even as the relief entered, it also brought with it new feelings of guilt, of remorse, and of a desperate desire to find forgiveness.

"Now," declared Admiral Paris, looking slightly smug, "I can send you on your quest to find Kathryn."

* * *

**KOINONIA**

Amelie smiled gently as she watched the small child toddle towards her mother. Shona's first steps were celebrated in the same way they rejoiced the birth of a child, first days in the temples, the rites of passage of the girls and initiations of the boys.

"They love you, Amelie, even if you pretend not to notice," said Ansar, the father of young Shona.

Ansar pulled his gaze away from his walking daughter and gaze down into the face of Amelie. Like them all, Amelie wore a long gown pulled in at the waist with a broad cord and tassels. A simple pair of espadrilles graced Amelie's dainty feet. Her hair was long and sleek in the deep copper that was common among Koinonian women.

Amelie had arrived almost a year ago from one of the most southern cities of Koinonia, a stranger among them who had begun working among the children of the first city. But she, like many novitiates before her, had registered with the Koinonian Temple of the Cleansing, to spend months in seclusion before coming out and move among the inhabitants of the first city. As magistrate, he was the city leader, and with his wife Carenza they often hosted Amelie for a few days in the month.

He gave a sigh. He loved his Carenza deeply, but Amelie stirred a different chord in him. One tuned with a song of deep sadness. Yet, Amelie appeared curiously at peace.

"Perhaps it is that I tell them stories?"

"It is more than that, Amelie," Ansar replied as he moved forward to collect his little daughter from Carenza.

Amelie watched as Ansar lifted Shona high into his arms and the little girl giggled for all she was worth, enjoying the ride while Carenza looked on dotingly. They belonged perfectly together, thought Amelie. Perfectly. Shona leaned away from her parents, stretching out her arms towards her. Amelie stepped forward and smiled again as Shona practically dived against her.

"It is more than that," repeated Ansar.

Amelie remained silent as she played with Shona. It was almost time to return to the temple where the elders were waiting for her, but the few hours daily she allowed herself to enjoy the sun and meet the inhabitants of the town felt like golden moments for her. She returned Shona quietly to her parents, her body movement one of solemnity, of total awareness that her hour of meditation was drawing near.

"Amelie, when will we see you again?" asked Carenza, her eyes warm and gentle.

"Perhaps tomorrow. I am not sure…"

"Please, we would be much gratified if you could join us in our morning feast…"

Amelie smiled. "I shall give it thought." She nodded before solemnly making her way to the Temple.

"Amelie is much saddened today, my husband," Carenza declared. "Too much saddened. Today more than any other day…"

"I have observed the last few days, my beloved. I wish that she could be happy…happier, perhaps. I fear she will lose her life…"

"I know of what you speak, husband. I wish it were tomorrow…soon!"

"Our little Shona and the other small children of our habitat might be no more for her. They love her but…"

Ansar gave a great big sigh as they head for their abode, a large, airy structure with minimal furnishing. Carenza hooked her arm through his, while he carried little Shona who had decided that walking ten steps in one afternoon was too much for her and she flagged against her parent, tired of the day's exercise. As they entered their home, Carenza took the sleeping child from him and made Shona comfortable in her crib. The child never woke, instead, she turned on her side and firmly stuck her little thumb in her mouth, sighing in the restfulness and peace she sensed around her.

Carenza was worried as she returned to the lounge and sat down next to her husband.

"We must do something, my husband," she declared without looking at Ansar. She was tempted to run her long fingers along the ridges of his forehead, then sighed as she pulled her hand back. Later… "We must," she repeated softly. "The High Priest will – "

"I know, my beloved. Why do you think I have invited her to share our morning meal with us?"

Carenza smiled and only then looked at Ansar.

"So that we may convince her that all life is worth living, even though one might think there is no reason to live?"

"Indeed, beloved."

"How are we to achieve that? Can we?"

Ansar took his wife's hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes. In the morning, he would receive visitors and he hoped that their quest would resurrect the lustre that he knew lurked in Amelie's eyes. He placed his fingers briefly against her ridge before pulling them away, giving a sigh of pleasure.

"Do not worry so, my love."

* * *

**CLOISTER**

Her room was sparse, yet strangely comfortable. A few reading tablets on a wooden shelf just above her cot offered her the only pleasure she allowed herself. For the rest, she spent hours in deep meditation, seeking comfort, seeking peace, seeking…seeking…a peace that remained elusive. It felt as if her heart rebelled against the mind's insistence on closure, on bending to a will not her own.

She sat on her cot, first with her hands sedately laced together on her lap, then sighing, she rubbed a palm against the bifurcation on her forehead. Even there, the nerve centre of the Koinonians, no silence would descend. She breathed in deeply, willed those inner silences to come forth and immerse her in peace.

Smilingly sadly to herself, she admitted that she had come a long way in the last year and a half.

A long way from her raging, her loss, her sense of bereavement, her quiet, unnoticed descent into madness. Yes, she had come a long way from that point where she had once been wanted, needed. Now, even the smiling faces of the little children she looked after during the day were not enough to drive away her old longings, her old losses. Still, what measure of peace she found seemed to be insufficient. They were still there, the memories that haunted, that deprived her of quietude. Day after day, thinking… Peace could be plastered on the outside and not another man would know that all was not well inside.

It was time, Amelie thought, as she rose to her feet when there was a soft knock on her door. The door opened immediately after the knock and the High Priest, in long silver robe and cassock, entered.

"You wished to speak with me, Amelie," he said, hands folded, hidden under the cassock, the hood deep over his head so that his face lay in shadows. His voice though deep, was kind, benign.

_"Quonam confirmata est super nos misericordia ejus: est veritas Domini manet in aeternum…"_

"It is not our tongue. I do not understand, Amelie."

"I find no peace in the words," Amelie replied. "I have recited them over and over. It does not work for me… Once, they did…they did…" she repeated reflectively.

"I do not know what they mean, Amelie, but the words sound as if they descended from the blue skies."

"Yes. They are filled with sacred portents. It is a desire and knowledge at once, that a Being greater than any of us, can bestow mercy…"

"This Being has failed you?"

Amelie pondered on the High Priest's words. It penetrated her conscience, leaving her desolated.

"She replied softly, forlornly, "I am ready, Sire, for the Cleansing."

"Do you have family to witness the Cleansing?"

"No, Sire."

"There are none who would be saddened by your decision?"

"None, Sire," and Amelie gave a great big sigh when the words came forth from her dried mouth. Her tongue was dry as well, sticking to her palate. The Cleansing was a great step, one that required intense meditation.

"Then it shall be done, Amelie. In the morning, when the sun has risen over the hills of Koinonia, the Cleansing shall be performed. You do understand the significance of the ritual. You must wait here until the priests arrive for you…"

With that the High Priest nodded solemnly before turning quietly, closing the door behind him. He wore espadrilles like Amelie, so his footfalls were soft, becoming completely noiseless as he moved further away from her room.

"This is it then," she murmured as she sat back on her cot and bowed her head, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Soon, this unbearable pain shall be over and I can live again…"

* * *

**JOURNEY**

"Are you sure we're on the right trail, Chakotay?" asked Mike Ayala. "I wouldn't want to tell my Carmen and the boys I've followed my Captain on a wild goose chase…"

Mike let the words hang between them. They were on Koinonia, about a kilometre from where they were to meet with a Koinonian couple after walking from where they had beamed down from Voyager. He was exhausted, but followed Chakotay who, in the last half hour, hadn't uttered a single word. Walking to the home of the Koinonian couple was a way of preparing himself mentally for his interview with the Koinonians, Ayala thought. It was always like that for Chakotay. The man lapsed into silences and all they could do was guess what went on in the heart and mind of the angry warrior, who by his very gait appeared as angry as he had been on the Liberty and their first days on Voyager.

So, Mike mused on their earlier conversations, their mission to find Admiral Janeway who had been gone more than a year now. Chakotay had informed the Voyager crew of the nature of their mission. Most of them had been on Voyager in the Delta Quadrant and all of them knew of the disappearance of the legendary Admiral Janeway. The crew had thrown their support behind the captain in finding Kathryn Janeway. Only to him, as Chakotay's best friend and Security Chief, did Chakotay open up and share more detailed information about the search. He had an idea now what to look for on Koinonia. As far as the crew was concerned, Chakotay was merely on Koinonia to ask questions and scan every nook and cranny.

Then, one of the more heated conversations came to mind.

"It's all your fault, Chakotay," he had lashed angrily at his captain.

"And you think I'm happy blaming myself?"

"Sheese, you were pretty much flaunting that floozy all over Captain Janeway when everyone knew how she felt - !"

"Except me!"

"What? You live to be over forty, work for seven years on the same ship as Captain Janeway, and not just in the same ship, by side by side, for crying out loud and you never knew? Sensed? Were you blind?"

"Look, it's all in the past. I…know now…"

"What do you know _now_, Chakotay? That Commander Chakotay missed all the signals? Oh, brother… You're stupider than I thought. What do you know _now_? That Kathryn Janeway loved you for seven long years? That you were too visually impaired to see how she shrivelled and died in front of you? Didn't you once tell me that she asked you to wait? Shouldn't that have told you that she was interested, that she loved you? Was seven years too long for you, huh? Or was Seven too much for you…"

Mike had let those words sink in, enjoying humiliating his best friend. It was what Chakotay deserved. They had all been so mad at their former XO. Seven of Nine swaying in front of Captain Janeway. Had the crew been the only ones to notice that Janeway did what Janeway had always done best: sink her emotions into a hole and cover it with lead? Anyone with half a brain could have seen what Captain Janeway had done. She had shown no emotion whatsoever, and that had been the greatest calling card to her heartache a doofus of a Chakotay couldn't see. He had taken his Borg, wedded, bedded and thank the gods, didn't impregnate her. And how the devil and a multitude of sins came to haunt Chakotay...

And how. Seven of Nine. Unable to comprehend how a man could drift from her, unable to comprehend that beauty alone could not hold a man, unable to comprehend that a man with a history would have his history haunt him in the middle of the night, in the heat of sex.

Chakotay had not been the only sinner in the disappearance of Captain Janeway. Starfleet dismissed her achievements and levelled them with the commonness of a three week mission to a Federation outpost. The debriefings stank, the only worthy thing coming from them Janeway's indefatigable fight for the freedom of the Maquis. For that alone Chakotay should have hauled her off to Risa and kissed her into oblivion.

Stupid man.

"What did you say…?" he heard Chakotay speak for the first time, though his voice sounded distracted.

"Sorry, Boss. Thinking out loud. If we find Admiral Janeway, think she'll come back with us?"

"I don't know, Mike. We – I've treated her like s-"

"Boss, what happened to your ring?" he asked, just to rile Chakotay once more before the curse slipped out.

Next moment Ayala blinked hard several times, seeing stars. He had landed on the ground, flat on his back. He moved his jaw several times, glad when he could swallow at least. But it was a thumping blow that left him dazed and winded. He felt a hand grab his and jerk him back on his feet.

"I went with Torres all the way to Kronos to dump the thing in the lava caverns there. Satisfied?"

"Aye, Captain," Mike murmured, wincing with pain. He kept silent as the walked the last few metres to the house that was pointed out to them.

Ayala wondered at their possible success. Admiral Paris had reluctantly admitted, much to Chakotay's anger and surprise, that Janeway was alive somewhere in the Gamma Quadrant. A distant relative of Garak, a disgraced former gul in the Cardassian war machinery, had been pretty forthcoming after Chakotay had almost beaten him to a pulp. Ayala thought all Chakotay's hatred of the Cardassians lay in that beating he had given Gul Eres, and much for the Cardassian's unwillingness to part with information regarding a missing Starfleet admiral. From Gul Eres they tracked down warmonger Deberon Koz, another Cardassian who led them to a secret science facility on a remote planet. That had been three months ago and if they came to another dead end, he'd have to return home, leaving Chakotay to continue his search.

The man had made Owen Paris a solemn promise.

"I'll search for her even if I have to live a thousand years, or die…"

Ayala could feel the excitement rising in him. Captain Janeway had better be on Koinonia, or else…

**

* * *

**

**LAUDATE DOMINUM**

He had deserved the beatings, the name-calling, the gossip, the deliberate tearing apart of his reputation because of what he had done to Kathryn. He had confessed his sins, and now he wanted to do penance, plead for mercy, catch any small crumb Kathryn would be willing to throw at him, even take her rejection, again. If only… Only Kathryn could offer clemency. He was restless now, as restless as he had been since he left Seven of Nine, as restless as he would ever be for the rest of his life. If he could find Kathryn.

And now, more than a year after her disappearance, he was on the verge of finding her. His instinct told him she was on Koinonia. His visit to Ansar and Carenza Empalza was his last stop on this home world. If they couldn't help him, he would remain and turn the planet upside down and inside out, shake it until Kathryn fell off it and into his arms. Elzabar Wrenn of Modak, the planet with the underground science facility Deberon Koz had sent him to, had better be right.

He had been unjust to Kathryn. He had been a fool ten thousand times over, letting her go. A greater fool for throwing another in her face, letting her see him flaunt Annika Hansen, crazed by puppy-like devotion and his own terrible desire to inflict pain on Kathryn because she had pained him… He had been childish, stupidly childish in throwing away happiness, and that was exactly what he had done.

He had gambled with life and love, gambled with the only constant he had ever had in his life, even when Kathryn had never been in it, for the stars themselves shaped the destiny of Kathryn and Chakotay. He should have known that stars never lied, that their wandering bark in the Delta Quadrant was guided by the brightest in the firmament – Kathryn. But Kathryn had rejected him, time after time, or that was what he had brought and taught himself to believe.

He had not been prepared to wait.

Even before their love bed had turned cold from the night's lovemaking, he had realised his mistake with Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine gave him nothing, and he? He couldn't connect. How could he? What had he expected? That lust-induced sex would replace what he had lost? That pandering to Annika's surprisingly childish whims would suddenly turn her from a chrysalis into a butterfly? That suddenly Seven of Nine would walk with beauty in the way the old poets had always meant?

He had been sorely mistaken. Even so, like a doddering old lustful fool, he had bedded Annika again and again, as if to purge himself of rot, of guilt, never really caring that he was only sinking deeper and deeper into the dark haze of depravity.

He only realised he had gone too far when about two months after he married Annika, Kathryn had quietly, like a thief in the night, vanished. Starfleet's bludgeoning of her character must surely have aided in Kathryn's disappearance. And it was her vanishing act that really made him sit up at last and slowly shake off the debris of a failed marriage.

His last interview with Admiral Paris still left him quivering with shame. Yet, he had come away with hope that flared brightly, like in the old days of Voyager. Hope that Kathryn was alive somewhere, and not just anywhere…

They were almost there and he felt his heart constrict painfully, causing him to breathe with difficulty. Still, he tried to remain as calm as he could. He glanced quickly at Ayala. Ayala carried a backpack. It contained PADDs, a medical kit, one the EMH had ordered them to take, plus a few personal items.

"This is it, then," Ayala said matter-of-factly as he waited for Chakotay's next move.

Chakotay paused at the door, preparing to knock when the door opened and a tall Koinonian man smiled at him. He had a bifurcated forehead and thin ridges on his nose bridge. His hair was black as a raven's.

"You must be Captain Chakotay, of Voyager…"

"I am. And this is my Chief of Security, Commander Ayala."

"Greetings. I am Ansar. Please do come inside."

They stepped into the cool foyer before Ansar ushered them further inside, into a wide lounge where a woman was sitting on a couch. She rose gracefully to her feet as they approached her. Her hair again, was a dark copper, sleek, hanging long down her back. Ansar stood next to her and proudly presented her.

"This is my wife, Carenza."

They greeted the friendly woman who smiled as she nodded her acceptance of their greeting.

It was still early morning, as per Ansar's invitation. He was the one, a city leader, who could give them valuable information.

Chakotay looked about him. The sparsely furnished room had few adornments. He kept staring at a painting on the wall. Ansar smiled at Chakotay's obvious curiosity.

"It was a gift from Amelie," Ansar said enigmatically.

"It is beautiful," replied Chakotay, remembering how Kathryn had sometimes painted on Voyager, on New Earth… He could have sworn it was Kathryn's work. The brush strokes reminded strongly of the way she worked on canvas. He shook his head a little. It was silly to run ahead of himself. Coincidences could be too great.

"We will depart to the dining room for our morning feast, Captain Chakotay," Carenza broke into his train of thought. She showed no surprise at their appearance in Starfleet uniform.

They followed the two Koinonians to a smaller, but equally airy room where a table was laid. Chakotay glanced at Ayala, noting his friend's expression of surprise. Some of the fruits were Earth fruits, of the more exotic varieties. He too frowned briefly, but Ansar and Carenza nodded as they waited for Chakotay and Mike to be seated.

"I do not wish to be rude, Ansar, Carenza," Chakotay began immediately when they were all seated, "but I would as soon as I can, speak about our mission…"

Ayala, who had been quiet all the time, opened the small backpack and retrieved a PADD. The two hosts frowned as Chakotay took the PADD from Mike and after a few taps on it, held the device for Ansar and Carenza to view. A picture of Kathryn, one he had himself taken of her, sitting in her command chair. It had been her birthday that day and he had been unable to convince her that it was her day off. The face of a smiling woman.

"Her name is Kathryn Janeway. Admiral Kathryn Janeway…"

He waited with baited breath for Ansar to reply. But Ansar frowned heavily, as did Carenza. Then the woman shook her head. Ansar shook his head too, after a few heavy seconds. Chakotay's heart sank. He had no appetite for the prepared dishes anymore. He had absolutely no idea how Kathryn might look otherwise. Mike's expression mirrored his own.

"I…" began Ansar, "am afraid that I have never seen this woman. There are no Earthlings on Koinonia…" Ansar's eyes were filled with compassion.

"I have reason to believe that she is here on Koinonia, living as a Koinonian who - "

Chakotay stopped as Ansar's hand came up sharply, as if to halt his reply. Ansar had gazed out the window as Chakotay spoke, his eyes on something, or someone in the distance.

"Amelie…here she comes. I wish for you to meet Amelie, Captain Chakotay…She is from the Cloister. Perhaps she may be able to enlighten you more on this Admiral Janeway."

**

* * *

**

**AMELIE**

Even as Chakotay joined the stares of the others at the approaching Koinonian woman, he became instantly transfixed by her beauty, her bearing. Struck mute, only his mind raced, searching for words, for images, old poets, dead poets, rapturous song, of nightingales extolling the gods and goddesses, of auroras and benevolent darknesses.

The woman - Amelie - seemed to float towards them, the long flowing gown of the Koinonians flirting with her ankles, a cord that enhanced the narrow waist, the gentle swell of her breasts. She wore a cloak over the gown, but its hood was thrown back, revealing deep copper hair that hung sleekly down her back, tucked behind her ears.

Her eyes were on them, as if she knew there were visitors, but as yet, they remained unseen to her. It was a strange paradox and suddenly, the words came to him…

_She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:_

Seven of Nine, for all her Nordic beauty, could never be the vision who now vanished temporarily from sight, briefly yes, only for them to hear her knocking on the front door. Carenza had gotten to her feet to receive the new visitor. Chakotay could feel the thumping of his heart as a loud thudding in his ears. Strange, so strange. The woman, Koinonian, her ridged forehead tempered in beauty, toned more than Carenza's or Ansar's. Somewhere he could hear a baby cry and he wondered absently at the incongruence of the moment. Glancing briefly at Mike, he noticed his friend as rapt as he must have appeared.

They heard footsteps and the next moment, Amelie stood in the doorway. More beautiful than when he had just stared in wonder from a distance. More beautiful and more aloof.

Her eyes instantly met Chakotay's, went dark, for several moments before the words issued like feathery tendrils drifting to them, husky tones that teased him mercilessly for an instant. And the words… A dark flush stole into her cheeks as she spoke.

_"Quonam confirmata est super nos misericordia ejus: est veritas Domini manet in aeternum…"_

Chakotay frowned heavily. She wasn't speaking Koinonian…

"Amelie!" cried Ansar, "this is – "

But the next moment, Amelie took flight, vanished like a spirit, unseen, unheard. The front door slammed.

Then all was quiet. Too quiet. Amelie's exit stunned them. Chakotay, momentarily bewildered, recovered first.

"She is Koinonian, yet she spoke – "

"She speaks Koinonian, Captain. But that tongue is strange to us…we have never heard of it," Ansar said.

"It is understood only by a few… I must speak with her…I must…"

"Captain?"

"She knows something, Ansar. I have only ever heard one person utter those words in my presence. One person…" Chakotay had hardly finished speaking before he too, rose to his feet, moving swiftly outside to follow Amelie.

Another heavy silence hung in the room after Chakotay left. Mike Ayala stared at the window, still too dazed to say anything. Carenza, who had left the room and returned with a baby on her arms, looked perplexed.

"Amelie? She did not stay for our morning feast? And Captain Chakotay? Where is he?"

Ayala shook his head and shrugged, not completely understanding what had just happened. His hosts were equally baffled.

"Amelie has taken flight, beloved, when she laid eyes on Captain Chakotay. I do not understand as well. She spoke a strange tongue. I have not heard it spoken. It sounded beauteous…"

"It is a language called Latin, Ansar," replied Mike, "although I do not understand what it means. I think Captain Chakotay does."

Mike, having recovered mentally from the shock of what had just happened, turned his own brief perplexity around. With Amelie and Chakotay something was stirring and he thought they were much, much closer to the disclosing of secrets.

"Then we shall wait here for them. I am certain that all shall be resolved when Captain Chakotay returns. Perhaps we shall see the lustre return to Amelie's eyes. She has been deeply saddened of late, more so the last two days…"

Mike Ayala, best friend of Captain Chakotay, kept his council. Amelie was the most beautiful image he had seen, notwithstanding his own sweet Carmen, the mother of his sons and little Corinna, their year old daughter. While Amelie's appearance was superlative and breathtaking, he felt shivers going down his spine. Very bizarre. A Koinonian voicing her pain in Latin… How common was that? Did Amelie know Admiral Janeway? Why did Amelie appear so unbelievably sad? So like Admiral Janeway herself?

What he knew or suspected he couldn't impart to Ansar and his wife. It was not his place. But Amelie's sadness and Admiral Janeway's sadness felt so congruent, it rocked him when he realised what day it was.

May 20. Kathryn Janeway's birthday.

* * *

**LOVE, ETERNAL**

He didn't mean to trap her or make her feel trapped, but by the time he reached Amelie, she had backed up against a tree, one with the largest fronds he had ever seen, throwing them in shade. It was hot and the blistering heat had sapped him.

This time the wide hood was over her head and just the action of two dainty hands touching the band to throw it back, made him gasp for breath. She was even more beautiful, standing so close that he could see the pupils of her blue eyes filled with tiny dark specks.

Eyes in which he saw the flash of recognition. Koinonian features, tiny ridges on her nose, like the Bajorans

and the bifurcated forehead resembling those of Ansar and Carenza. Yet there was recognition in her eyes.

He felt his heart overflow, blood that rushed through his veins and called to life every memory he had of Kathryn Janeway. There was nothing in Amelie's outward appearance that reminded of Kathryn, except the way her hands had held the hood, the way her body moved as she ran across the embankment to the tree.

But more, much more than that, Mozart's _Solemn Vespers of the Confessor_, in particular the _Laudate Dominum _which she had played on countless of occasions when they had had dinner together in her quarters. The words and sacred music had rung through him like a litany. Since the day he had given up the ring and freed himself from the bondage his marriage to Seven had become, the _Laudate Dominum_ had become his mainstay, his spiritual link with Kathryn.

Amelie's eyes, filled with recognition of him, also turned dark with untold pain.

"Have you come to torture me again?" Amelie asked.

His overflowing heart, already shattered by Amelie's remarkable appearance, made him cry out in pain. He had not imagined this, had known of it, but never like this, never this way. She was Amelie, Koinonian, who asked this question, a question he had imagined Kathryn would ask. That was his sin. That was the sin of the Federation. In those moments her anguished expression was meant for him, his sin, his accountability in the crucifixion of Kathryn, come forth from the mouth of Amelie. His guilt weighed heavily on him, bore him down and kept him bent down like an old man unable to walk two steps.

He couldn't speak.

And so he did what he had promised himself he wouldn't do, what he had vowed not to do unless it was asked of him. Even so, the movement, once a thought, was engineered by his brain as a magnificent impulse.

He touched Amelie.

He moved to within centimetres of her until her face was almost against his chest. Out of its own volition, his hand rose slowly, trembling fingers touching the ridge on her forehead. Amelie's silence astounded him, making him wonder whether it was borne of consent, or the instinctive reaction of a trapped animal: if it didn't offer resistance, any pain would be minimised.

The touch made him gasp sharply in surprise. Did the ridge, soft, yet bony and firm suddenly begin to glow? A dark, reddish glow pulsed under his fingers. He blinked several times hard. Amelie stood quite motionless, her wounded words still ringing in his ears. But under his fingers that stilled at the touch, her skin lured him, causing little thrilling shocks to run through his hand. He couldn't understand it. It was eroticism of the highest order. He knew with absolute certainly that his lips never touched her, but it felt like a kiss of quivering bliss. When Amelie raised her eyes to meet his, he knew how complete her torture had been. They were dark, like in the days of Seven of Nine, paraded in front of Kathryn for his amusement.

"W-What is happening, Amelie?"

"It is the way of the joining of the Koinonian people. My skin would only glow if it is touched by him who completes my destiny…"

She sounded so desolate he wanted to draw her into his arms and rest his lips against her luxuriant copper hair. Her lips were full and red, her cheeks flushed. Her nostrils flared delicately. Bemused, he looked at his fingers, glowing the same dark red, as if the cushions were embers that breathed. Was this how Koinonians knew their life mates? He was tied to Amelie, forever, according to Koinonian custom. Then his gaze met hers again. A giant fist clutched his heart, squeezing it until he wanted do die from want of air.

Suddenly, he felt something from deep inside impel him to bend his head. To reach to her in the way humans from Earth connected, connections that were as just and pure as the Koinonians. His heart beat in his throat, his breathing laboured. It wasn't a cold day, but his breath caused the hurried movement of dust particles seen only in the shaft of sunshine that broke through the fronds and flooded the shade in which they stood. He was heat and dust, fire and liquid and stimulating currents of pleasure as he drew inexorably nearer to Amelie's lips. The touch when it came, was a simple extension of his desire as he felt the world explode around him. His lips resting on hers, soft, alluring made his senses reel. Her tentative stirring under his touch devoured his mind as he succumbed by answering the gentle parting of her lips. He felt his entire body give way to a deluge, not of joy, not of conquest, but of shame.

Shame and guilt and the old, old desire for absolution, the wrongs he had committed against her. His mouth opened against her mouth; an anguished cry sprang from his throat, the way his fingers, planing her cheeks, her eyes, the ridges, the desperate need to find peace that wouldn't come. His fingers fell away from her face and he grasped her shoulders… He collapsed against Amelie, slid down her body in abject prostration before her, like one who had been shot, dropping wordlessly, helplessly to his knees.

Open-mouthed, a tearless weeping that seemed without end, his grief joined hers. But Amelie, the moment Chakotay fell to his knees, had gone down with him and held fast on to him. So they clung to one another, Chakotay only instinctively feeling Kathryn through Amelie.

* * *

**REPOSE**

Later, after the stormy surrender, when calm at last came to rest like a dove between them, Chakotay found himself lying on the ground, Amelie in his arms, her head against his shoulder. He had not known how he came to be lying down, except that he had clung to her, or she had held fast on to him and in the process had slipped further to lie flat as they did now. The quiet air had witnessed their burgeoning grief, a monsoon of heated waters that cleansed them both from utter ills. They lay, finding solace in being wound together.

Her hood was down, but the cloak was spread to cover him partially. Her hand felt small where he kept it protectively against his chest. He hugged her tenderly against him, pressed his lips against her glorious hair that had grown long, his eyes closing at the touch. He hadn't dared to touch her forehead again, remembering how Ansar had refrained from touching his wife's ridges in the presence of strangers.

"I am undone…" came his voice, sounding hoarse from the storm of his despair.

"We will be whole again," she whispered tiredly into his neck, her warm breath tingling his skin. Her words offered comfort and he sighed deeply.

"I have vowed to find you and go on my knees to beg your forgiveness. I have searched the universe for you in the hope that you might look upon me with mercy. I have not slept, Kathryn, for dreaming of this day, this moment. I will always dwell in the valleys where no rest can reside if I cannot have the privilege of your pardon. That must be my punishment, forever. But those words…they pierced my soul, now, as they did then. Only then I was all manner of a fool…"

"My name is Amelie…"

"I cannot think of you as anything but Kathryn…forgive me."

"I have made a life here and I rejoice in who I am, Captain – "

His eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Chakotay. Please. Please…"

She remained almost lifeless as she pondered his pleading.

"Chakotay…" she whispered.

Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers almost nervously entwined.

"Kathryn…what happened when we returned home, I - " Okay this is Chakotay speaking…

"I hurt…" Kathryn gently interrupted. "You cannot imagine how much. Enough for me to - to be this way…Yet I couldn't go through with it…"

He frowned. Ansar had alluded to something. Kathryn - or Amelie - lived in a Cloister… He dreaded her answer, but had to ask. He turned his head so that he could gaze into her eyes, eyes he recognised finally as Kathryn's.

"With what, Kathryn?"

"The Cleansing…a purging of all memory of you, the Federation, debriefings, family…"

He reached to kiss her cheek, a tentative gesture made bold by the way she leaned into the touch.

"The Kathryn I know would never go through with something like that," he said with feeling.

"I couldn't sleep for thinking about my decision and only this morning, when I was ready to be cleansed, I realised that I couldn't go through with it. I am the sum of all my parts, Chakotay. Without my memories of heartache and hurt and desolation standing side by side with the joyful, beautiful ones, I am not whole. Were I never to have seen you again, I would have preferred to have my memories of you…any memory…"

"Oh, spirits, Kathryn!"

She waited until he became calm again, idly lifting his left hand, the hand that had covered hers. Her fingers caressed his, felt for something that was absent.

"What happened, Chakotay? To…her…?"

His movements stilled as he captured her hand against him.

"I happened…I let her go, and with that, found my freedom. I have never felt so free, only to be imprisoned again by my guilt…by you…"

He could feel her smile. Her lips moved against his neck. He turned to gaze deeply into her eyes again.

"I await your pardon, Amelie…Kathryn…"

"I have forgiven you, Chakotay, in my heart…"

"Then I am most blessed, beloved."

They were quiet a long time, full of the blessing of their togetherness.

"How did you know, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked softly.

"In Ansar's house I saw a painting. I sensed it was your work even when Ansar told me Amelie had done it. I was curious. Then, I used to recite your words of Mozart's Solemn Vespers, remembering our days in your quarters listening to the music… In Ansar's house, when you uttered them, I knew it was you, my Kathryn."

"It was what kept me going, what kept me from going through with the Cleansing."

"It was what gave me hope."

"Great kings exalted God's name. I felt comforted by them. H-how did you find me?" Kathryn asked him drowsily.

And equally drowsily, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep, Chakotay replied, "Gul Eres became very vocal after a sound beating…"

"Chakotay…?"

"Yes, Kathryn?" he asked, his voice slurring, yet full of wonder that she was in his arms.

"I love you…"

"And I love you…forgive me…forgive me…" he began, his body beginning to shudder again.

Kathryn lay waiting patiently for the storm to abate, caressing his cheeks, his lips, revelling in running her fingers through his hair, reverently touching the tattoo. She was home at last, her pain, her suffering, the indescribable sadness that had been part of her for so long, that drove her to become invisible to him and the Federation, now gone. She had more hope now that he was with her, even as his sadness, his guilt was only just beginning. She knew how the road she had walked for more than a year was a lonely road and she would never wish it on him to walk that road alone.

She vowed to walk with him.

Wherever it took them, whether back to Earth or away from it, she knew that they would be of one heart and mind in deciding their future together

**

* * *

**

**EPILOGUE**

Mike Ayala stood with two large pillows in his hands about two metres away from the sleeping couple. The moment he had seen them lying there, he had thought not to waken them, but to make them more comfortable. Chakotay hadn't slept for weeks and most likely Amelie - Kathryn - was short on the sleep stuff as well. He was going to beam back to Voyager, in orbit around Koinonia, and instruct Commander Tom Paris that they wait for Captain Chakotay's signal. He was not going to entertain gossip, not even to Voyager's first officer. The captain and Admiral Janeway, the beautiful Koinonian woman, could take as long as they needed to rest.

Right now, though they appeared comfortable, they'd both be sore when they woke up. Carenza had given him the pillows, saying that Amelie might need them because she liked to repose under the giant tree. The ground, though grassy, was hard and the comfort of pillows would ease them somewhat more.

He had not been shocked at finding Chakotay together with Amelie - Kathryn Janeway - as he too had sensed the moment Amelie had fled from the house who she really was. While they knew that Admiral Janeway was somewhere on Koinonia living as a Koinonian, Mike guessed that even Chakotay might have been surprised that the first Koinonian they'd met after Ansar and Carenza had to be Kathryn. She had recognised Chakotay instantly, and he could swear on ten of his great-grandmother's bibles that Chakotay had never seen Amelie before, never before met a Koinonian. Koinonians were not known for off-world travel, being such a spiritual race. So Amelie's shocked expression at recognising Chakotay sent her running off as fast as she could. He remained to explain to Ansar and Carenza the situation as best as he could and Chakotay had run after Kathryn as best as his legs could carry him. Then Mike, always transfixed by baby antics, scooped Shona from her mother's arms and played coo-coo and peek-a-boo with her, making him miss his own little girl who had also, by the time he left Earth, taken her first steps. All was well on Koinonia, he thought.

Gul Eres knew the Cardassian doctors who could perform the procedures such as Admiral Janeway had procured in order to become incognito. If they could rearrange Seska from Cardassian to Bajoran, humans could be made to look like other races. Although Admiral Janeway had hidden herself successfully from Starfleet, her family and the Federation, the moment Chakotay chucked his **Seven-ring** into the lava rivers of the underground caverns of Kronos, it wasn't going to be long before he found Kathryn Janeway. The golden thread of destiny had sprung alive from that moment and Chakotay had become like a man possessed in finding her and going on his knees to beg her mercy. Mike hoped that Chakotay would remember for the rest of his life that he had once upon a time almost lost what he treasured most, through his own stupidity.

Chakotay had operated on instinct and Gul Eres was the unfortunate Cardassian in Chakotay's way to finding Kathryn. It worked. If it hadn't, Chakotay would simply have continued his search.

Mike felt a strange elation that he was privy to this little tableau in front of him. Admiral Janeway lying snugly in Chakotay's arms, a look of pure peace on her face.

And Chakotay…

All the lines of anger had evaporated. His skin looked smooth, his expression in sleep, one of calm. Occasionally the admiral would stir, movement that caused Chakotay to pull her closer to him, burying his face against her hair.

Sighing, Mike proceeded to place the pillows under them, their movements still so lethargic and sleepy that they hardly woke, but simply burrowing into the soft pillows. He had thrown a rug over them, an afghan Chakotay said belonged to Kathryn. Admiral Janeway's eyes opened and focused lazily on him. His heart did a double flip when she smiled at him, then brought a finger to her lips before closing her eyes again.

He knew what she asked. Chakotay was going to bring his Koinonian on board Voyager and he, Michael Diego Ayala, was going to have a right royal time as Chief of Security making sure that Admiral Kathryn Janeway remain incognito for a while longer. He was going to gloat with joy that he knew something they didn't. Admiral Janeway - Amelie - was to be made comfortable in Captain Chakotay's quarters and he would personally stand guard to ensure their privacy.

By the look of things, Admiral Janeway had forgiven Chakotay. What her feelings were regarding the Federation was nobody's business but her own and Chakotay's. The Federation, they all knew, dealt her a cruel blow by trivialising her achievements, their endurance, their struggles, her duty above all to bring Voyager home safely and in one piece seven years after going missing.

Kathryn Janeway would be forgiven if she still didn't want to have anything to do with the Federation, but the way he knew her, she would say something she had once told Seven of Nine, "a single act of compassion can bring you in touch with your humanity."

Who knew, perhaps in forgiving the man she loved, she'd find it in her heart to forgive the Federation.

That, Michael Diego Ayala decided, was all in the future.

**end**

* * *

_"Quonam confirmata est super nos misericordia ejus: est veritas Domini manet in aeternum…"_

_For his merciful kindness is great toward us: and the truth of the Lord endureth forever. Psalm 117_

She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

_Excerpt from "She walks in beauty" by Lord Byron_

vanhunks

March 2007


End file.
